


Vampire Fiction

by KDblack



Category: Death Note & Related Fandoms, Death Note (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Morally Ambiguous Character, Post-Yotsuba Arc (Death Note), Unhealthy Relationships, Vampire L (Death Note), Yotsuba Arc (Death Note), everything lawlight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-17 16:21:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29103225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KDblack/pseuds/KDblack
Summary: “Do you still think Kira is a monster?” Light asks on the stairs leading to rooftop, once they’re both out of the rain.“That depends on how you are defining monster in this argument. A dangerous creature? A being incompatible with the current structure of society? A beast with no choice but to come into conflict with humans?” Ryuzaki drops his head, letting his bangs fall into his eyes. He looks distant and obscure like this. Unreachable. As though at any second, he might break apart and melt into shadow. Light has a sudden urge to grab those pale wrists and squeeze until the bones grind together and the man behind the L finally comes to life in his arms. “I think Kira is a human, Light-kun. But isn’t it always humans who make the best monsters?”(The world’s greatest detective makes a gamble, Light makes an oversight, and the Death Note only works on humans.)
Relationships: L/Yagami Light
Comments: 6
Kudos: 57





	Vampire Fiction

1\. 

Ryuzaki only smiles when he’s making a point. Even then, it’s a thin, washed out thing, a slight curve of the lips that doesn’t even hint at teeth. Actually, he’s very good at keeping his teeth covered in general, whether he’s speaking, eating, or chewing on his thumb. It makes him look careless and innocent, even though he’s the furthest thing but. It also brings a level of facial immobility that leaves him terribly unexpressive, even when he’s putting on a show like he did at Todai, but he can do a lot with very little. A slight change of posture, a different glint in his wide eyes, and he’s suddenly barely recognizable. The shift from Hideki Ryuga to L to Ryuzaki is not subtle, but every time he sees it, it takes Light by surprise. 

If he hated Ryuzaki a little less, Light might grumpily admit he’s jealous of Ryuzaki’s acting skills. Perhaps that would be the admission that finally bridges the gap between them – the confession that finally completes the profile of Light that Ryuzaki has in his head and confirms, once and for all, that Light isn’t Kira. Probably not, but Light has spent fifty days helpless in Ryuzaki’s custody thanks to that warped profile. He can dream. Mostly he dreams of beating some sense into this man. There’s no other reason Light would wake up flushed and breathing hard.

Regardless of the cause, there are few things worse than opening his eyes to see a soft little curve on Ryuzaki’s pallid face – a smirk so faint it can’t even be called a smirk. Microscopic, but utterly infuriating. Light wonders if Ryuzaki was smiling like that the whole time Light was in a cell. He wishes it was appropriate to ask.

He tries to give Ryuzaki a taste of his own medicine about a week into the handcuffed observation period. For a whole day, or at least whenever his father isn’t looking, he wears thin smiles, speaks through soft lips, and watches. Around six PM, his efforts bear fruit. Kind of.

Ryuzaki kicks off the desk and clings to his chair as it spins, drawing the chain between them uncomfortably tight. “Light-kun hasn’t been acting like himself today.”

Light smirks inside. Outside, he smiles that thin, washed-out smile. “Does it bother you, Ryuzaki?”

“Not at all. But Light-kun may wish to be more discerning in the habits he chooses to imitate.” Ryuzaki tilts his head uncomfortably far to the side, eyes black like wells of midnight. “He may not know what they were intended to hide.”

That’s just the right balance of cryptic, practical, and completely unsettling to keep Light up late. Later than he’s already been staying up thanks to Ryuzaki’s incessant typing and the brightness of the laptop screen, which is a nightly average of 2 AM, because Ryuzaki has never heard of a healthy sleep schedule. Or sleep, period. Odds are that the phrase is completely meaningless – an offhanded statement with no weight to it, uttered only to throw Light off. He goes over it again and again in his head anyway, betting on the tiny, tiny chance that this is a clue he can use to unravel Ryuzaki.

* * *

2\. 

Unfortunately, Ryuzaki is less than cooperative with this whole endeavour. You’d think a man with so much to hide would have fewer annoying personal habits. Biting his nails. Inhaling sweets. Sitting bunched up, with his knees pressed to his chest, like a child trying to protect himself from the world. Lying. 

Why yes, those last two are connected. Being handcuffed together means that Light has plenty of time to observe the detective. It doesn’t take him long to realize that at least half of Ryuzaki’s off-putting mannerisms are either exaggerated or completely false. What would a normal person feel about his realization? Probably a mixture of hurt and betrayal. People like helping those they perceive to be pitiful. They don’t appreciate having that kindness taken advantage of. Light considers drawing attention to Ryuzaki’s scheming and then dismisses it in the same breath. If he throws a fit, Ryuzaki will definitely connect his behaviour back to Kira. Worse, while his father might take Light’s side, he doubts it would truly drive a wedge between Ryuzaki and the rest of the task force – at least half of those mannerisms are real, after all, or at least rooted in reality, so there’s a very real possibility of Light’s accusations being dismissed as a temper tantrum.

Unacceptable. He’s already lost enough face in this farce of an investigation. He’ll have his concerns taken seriously or not voice them all. So he watches, noting down everything, and waits for the right time.

Mostly, this means picking up on every irritating thing Ryuzaki does. Or doesn’t do. Often, it’s an unholy combination of both. Ryuzaki is the kind of person who, upon seeing a sign reading ‘do not touch,’ would immediately start running his hands over it with an expression of bland curiosity. Light would find it charming, except he’s the thing Ryuzaki won’t stop poking and prodding. Sometimes literally.

“What are you doing?” he asks, leaning away from Ryuzaki’s chilly fingers.

“Light-kun is warm,” Ryuzaki says, eyes wide, a parody of innocence.

“If you’re cold, put a sweater on.” 

Ryuzaki does not do that, obviously. Which is ridiculous, because he gets cold incredibly easily. Not that he shows it – Light has never once seen Ryuzaki shiver, has in fact watched with horror as he tugs his shirt collar down, down, down in a computer lab kept so cold Light can almost see their breath – but he does. When their hands brush together, or the chain sends them crashing into each other, Ryuzaki always feels chilled. Not frigid, unless the room they’re in is refrigerated, but noticeably cool. As though there’s nothing inside him to keep him warm.

If Light approaches this seriously – and he does, because he needs something to focus on or he will actually go insane – he can state confidently that either Ryuzaki’s body temperature must be lower than average, or the detective has really bad circulation. Personally, he’s leaning hard on that first option. During their fight, Ryuzaki’s face is every bit as cold as his spidery fingers and toes. Punching him feels like Light’s driving his fist into a snowbank.

Light wishes he was punching a snowbank. That would be less frustrating than the emptiness of Ryuzaki’s eyes, even after the detective stops deliberately testing Light’s patience and gets back to work.

* * *

3\. 

The handcuffs are getting to Light, and possibly to L as well. He didn’t used to loom so close while Light slept. Light is beginning to wonder how long Ryuzaki can wait to have his theory proven. 

Light is getting very tired of waking up to the sound of nimble fingers tapping away at a keyboard. It’s still better than opening his eyes to find Ryuzaki crouched over him, inches away, just… watching. Drinking up everything about Light’s sleeping form. Blinking slowly, like a cat, as Light battles the instinct screaming at him to get away.

He smiles. “Good morning, Ryuzaki.”

Messy hair rustles as Ryuzaki tilts his head. He does not smile back. “Light-kun was restless. Did you not sleep well?”

That’s a stupid question. Light hasn’t slept well in months – not since he had some kind of breakdown and willingly handed himself into Ryuzaki’s custody. Not since he was let out of his cell only to have a gun pointed at him by his own father. Not since Ryuzaki put the cuff on him and tugged the chain once, experimentally. Light finds his fingers crawling toward metallic links and forces his hands down. He can’t show weakness to this man. To Ryuzaki, fear is just another sign of guilt. “You’d probably know better than me.”

“I suppose I would.”

When cats blink slowly like that, it means they like you. Light has no idea what it means from Ryuzaki.

“Did you eat?” Light asks finally.

Black eyes stare down at him, empty. Searching. Hungry. “If I had eaten, Light-kun would know.”

There are reasonable explanations for that statement: crumbs in the sheets, the noise of spoons clinking against dishware, the occasional little sound of enjoyment Ryuzaki makes specifically to get under Light’s skin. None of that stops the hair on the back of Light’s neck from standing up. 

Sometimes, Ryuzaki looks like he wants to slit open Light’s stomach, pin back the skin, and label each glistening organ for further reference. Other times, it seems like he’d rather grab a fork and eat Light, bite by bite, until he finds the poison he’s been seeking this whole time.

When Light touches Rem’s Death Note, it’s almost a relief. How can he be afraid of L when everything is going according to plan?

* * *

4.

“Do you still think Kira is a monster?” Light asks on the stairs leading to rooftop, once they’re both out of the rain.

“That depends on how you are defining monster in this argument. A dangerous creature? A being incompatible with the current structure of society? A beast with no choice but to come into conflict with humans?” Ryuzaki drops his head, letting his bangs fall into his eyes. He looks distant and obscure like this. Unreachable. As though at any second, he might break apart and melt into shadow. Light has a sudden urge to grab those pale wrists and squeeze until the bones grind together and the man behind the L finally comes to life in his arms. “I think Kira is a human, Light-kun. But isn’t it always humans who make the best monsters?”

“I suppose so.” Light smiles and busies himself with drying both of them off. “You should warm up. You’re going to catch a chill.”

Ryuzaki hums faintly, ignoring the rain still streaming down his drenched form. “Everything worth catching, I’ve already caught.”

Light’s smile doesn’t tighten at the jab. He holds out a fresh towel for Ryuzaki and fantasizes about throwing it at him. About lashing out and knocking Ryuzaki off his feet. About digging his fingers into the curve of the detective’s throat and pressing down until the illusion of control breaks, once and for all, and Ryuzaki begs wordlessly to be forgiven – to be saved – to be owned. Anything, just to be allowed to breathe.

“Of course,” he says, soft and affectionate. “We’ll catch Kira together.”

Black eyes slide toward Light several seconds before the rest of Ryuzaki’s head turns. “Mmm. Of course, Light-kun.”

* * *

5\. 

Over the last year, Light’s become very familiar with the symptoms of a heart attack. When Ryuzaki falls, he knows. It happens in slow motion: the sudden widening of narrowed eyes, the loss of balance, the spoon falling from nerveless fingers. Light watches, spellbound, heart in his mouth. Ryuzaki hits the floor with his mouth open, lips just barely parted, his face soft and confused. He looks more vulnerable – more human – in that moment than he ever has before. 

The great detective’s final performance. As befitting of the only man who saw the truth.

Light lurches forward, puts his hand on Ryuzaki’s shoulder, turns him roughly onto his side. It’s too late. The motion of his chest has stopped. The Death Note is already taking effect. Adrenaline surges through Light’s veins and he ducks closer, closer, until his face is just above Ryuzaki’s – above L’s. Black eyes stare up, unfocused. Already glazing over.

For a moment, Light smiles. Then Ryuzaki takes a shuddering breath and surges upward. Cold hands close on Light’s skin, one on his shoulder and one in his hair, and yank. His neck explodes in pain.

The smile falls off in pieces. The room is full of shouting and footsteps, but Light can’t do more than take a cursory notice of it. His thoughts are slow like molasses, dripping down, down, down.

Ryuzaki’s name was written in the Death Note. Ryuzaki had a heart attack. Ryuzaki should be dead. The human whose name is written in the Death Note will die.

Ryuzaki is not dead. Ryuzaki’s teeth are buried in Light’s neck. Ryuzaki is pulling back now, his chin painted in red gore, licking his lips as if chasing the taste of something sweet. His teeth are visible. His teeth are daggers.

Ryuzaki is not a human.

“It seems your gamble did not pay off.” The words fall like ashes from a bloodstained tongue. “I was worried, but that notebook’s rules are rather strict, aren’t they, Kira? Don’t worry,” he adds, “I won’t let you die.”

More shouting. More footsteps. Light lists to the side, feeling numb and cold. He’d be on the floor by now if Ryuzaki wasn’t holding him up. Shock, part of him says clinically, he’ll probably pass out soon. “What are you?”

Black, black eyes tilt in a smile. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m a monster, Light-kun. Like you.”

You’re not like me, Light thinks helplessly as darkness laps at the edges of his vision. Light wanted to change things – to make things better. Ryuzaki has only ever looked at him like a cat looks at a mouse. Once upon a time, Light liked that, even when he hated everything else the detective offered. He still does. That’s the worst part.

The game wasn’t supposed to end this way. Somewhere, Ryuk is laughing, Light’s sure of it. The Shinigami who promised to kill him and the vampire who promised to save him. As his eyes slide shut, he wonders which of them will emerge the victor.


End file.
